


Food Between Friends

by donutsweeper



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Food, Friendship, Gen, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 20:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17794205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: Rufus, Lucy and Wyatt and a few times they stopped for food.





	Food Between Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedreamygirl (useyourtelescope)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyourtelescope/gifts).



They'd landed in 1820 and Rufus was stuck hiding in the lifeboat while Lucy and Wyatt snuck into the party that Lucy had suspected was Flynn's destination so they could mingle with the guests there and try to figure out if they needed to act to undo whatever in history it was that Flynn was trying to alter. Rufus was bored out of his mind and debated going after them every few minutes despite knowing it was a monumentally stupid idea considering the likelihood of what might happen to him in this time and place given his skin color, but still, he hated thinking that there might be something he could be doing out there to help. He had just talked himself out of going after them for what was probably the fiftieth time when he heard the sound of someone approaching and then Lucy call out, "It's just us, Rufus."

"How'd it go?" he asked, leaning out to offer Lucy his hand since he was pretty sure climbing into the Lifeboat in those skirts without help was borderline impossible. "And, where's Wyatt?"

"I'm right here." Wyatt appeared out of nowhere, melting out of the darkness and practically giving Rufus a heart attack.

"Must you do that?" His voice didn't squeak in surprise. It didn't.

Lucy didn't laugh at his reaction, but she did smile. "We were right, it looks like Flynn was trying to influence the passage of the Missouri Compromise bill, but from what we could tell nothing he's done has had any effect to make the result different than what history says it should be."

"Which is good, right?" Rufus slipped into his seat to give Wyatt and Lucy more room to move around.

"Definitely good." Wyatt didn't sit down right away, instead he reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out. "I thought you might be hungry," he said as he shoved a folded over napkin in Rufus' direction. 

Rufus opened it up to find several delicious looking pastries. "Thanks, man."

"I figured you could do without those weird pickled meat things they had," Lucy opened her mouth then, probably to explain to them both what the meat thing was and its place in history but Wyatt leaned over to help buckle her in and didn't stop talking to let her get a word in edgewise, "they were, to be honest, disgusting. But the pastries they had there tasted like those ones we had outside of Paris that one time and I remembered you saying you liked them."

"Yeah, they look great, thanks." He took a quick bite. Absolutely delicious. "Be ready to go in a sec."

"Take your time," Lucy said, playfully slapping Wyatt's hands away. "We're not in a rush."

* * *

They had arrived in Buffalo in time to ensure the assassination of President McKinley, even if, thanks to Flynn's interference, he wound up being shot at the King Edward Hotel rather then at the Temple of Music where it was supposed to have happened. "I understand why it has to be this way, but still, making sure a President is killed is never going to feel right to me. What's next," Rufus grumbled, "a trip to that grassy knoll in Dallas in 1961?"

"Possibly," Lucy allowed, "or the Baltimore and Potomac Railroad Station in Washington, D.C. in 1881." 

"1881?" Wyatt asked. 

"The assassination of President Garfield."

"Oh, right. of course. How could I forget Garfield?" It was only because Rufus knew him so well that he could tell Wyatt'd had as little clue to Garfield's assassination as he'd had.

"Or, if Flynn starts trying to change failed attempts there's Andrew Jackson's in 1835 or Roosevelt's in 1933 or, well, there's Truman and Nixon and Ford and so on and so forth." Lucy sighed before shaking her head, adding a soft, "Sometimes, this job..."

"Hey," Wyatt said, "I heard a couple of people talking about there being some samples being given out over in the Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building. Cakes and sandwiches and juice and things like that. What do you say we stop there on our way back to the lifeboat and go check it out?"

"I could eat. What about you, Lucy?"

"I suppose a quick detour couldn't hurt. It would be interesting to see what's being offered."

"Great," Wyatt rubbed his hands together, "I'm starving!"

* * *

They'd been in the Weimar Republic for the entire week surrounding Wyatt's birthday but once they got home Rufus and Lucy dragged him out to celebrate. They wound up going to a coffee shop instead of a bar like they had originally planned in deference to the concussion and bruised ribs Wyatt was sporting as a result of the beating he took back in Germany when they'd all been briefly captured. 

"You don't need to wait here with us. Why don't you go grab us a table," Rufus suggested when he saw the way Wyatt was squinting under the bright lighting at the counter, a sure sign that he was in pain.

"I'm fine," Wyatt insisted, even though he obviously was anything but.

Lucy then tried to talk some sense into him. "Go on, we'll order you something and then join you." 

When Wyatt still didn't move it took everything Rufus had not to roll his eyes. "You," he said, pointing at Wyatt and then at an empty table in the corner, "sit."

"Woof, woof," Wyatt joked but he did head over to the table Rufus had suggested. Rufus decided to be the better man and pretend not to notice the death grip Wyatt had on the chair as he carefully eased himself into it.

"Sometimes," he muttered under his breath.

"It's who he is," Lucy said, sounding somehow both frustrated and fond at the same time.

"Yeah, it's a good thing we like him this way."

"It is. What do you think? A large Americano and brownies for each of us?"

"Maybe a couple of seven-layer bars too?" Rufus suggested. "It is his birthday, after all, and we're celebrating."

"Now that sounds like an excellent plan."


End file.
